Eden is Burning
by Coffee and Cyanide
Summary: (oneshot) Vincent is an ex-Turk, not fitting with Avalanche's image of heroes. Reno is a Turk not fitting with Shinra's new image as the goodguys. A bar, some drinks. Turks will be turks and boys will be boys. [yaoi. VincentxReno]


Eden is Burning

"You look like someone stuffed a pinecone up your ass." The statement rolled to the pavement, a bundle of harsh words wrapped up in a nice tone. Only one person spoke this way, or at least, only one person whom Vincent knew personally. If personally was something to say about Reno. You couldn't know a Turk personally, unless you were dead. The redhead was seated, perched was a better word, upon a barstool, fingers wrapped around a beer glass. There was no response that Vincent could give that would sound reasonable. In fact, no response he wanted to give at all, but something in the Turk's demeanor made him reply anyway.

"You look like hell." A calm statement, that just fell like lead, rather than Reno's own bouncing words. And he did. Reno looked more mussed than usual, his skin paler than usual, accenting the pink scars on his cheeks. The Turk was a bit more... worn, if that could be used to describe a person.

"I am Hell, Vincent Valentine. I am Hell." And that was the first time they had exchanged words that didn't include 'I'm going to kill you'.

"That's my line," A quirk of the lips.

"Sorry, I tend to steal, lie and cheat," Reno chuckled, "It is in the job description." And it was.

"I know." A silence followed this, as if Reno was reevaluating the other. He had remembered that Vincent was a Turk, but old enough to be 'old school' as it was commonly put. Back in the days where all Turks carried guns and worked in ones instead of twos.

"Why is the hero slumming with us, hn?" Reno finally asked, raising an eyebrow, the sunglasses that were present in his red hair were pushed down the bridge of his nose. Why he chose to wear them inside the badly lit bar was a mystery.

"Not by choice." Vincent seemed to tease, but it was deadpan. Reno seemed to be slightly unsettled by this humor. He had, like most people, the impression that Vincent was a rather stiff laced sort of guy. Tseng-ish, with brooding, angst and all that thrown in. Vincent Valentine, joke? It seemed as though the world was about to be destroyed. Again.

"Right-o. Care for a drink? On me," A savage grin, and he waved at the 'tender, who jumped. It seemed that the Turk had this guy wrapped around his little finger. No surprise really, since Reno got the drink he wanted, or people ended up rather dead. Advantages of being 'liscensed to kill' so to speak.

"If it is on you," Another joke, "Then perhaps I'll get the most expensive thing in this place." The clawed man reseated himself, adjacent to the Turk.

"Go ahead, Rafe doesn't mind, do you, Rafe?" Reno gave a vicious grin, which made the bartender squirm and shake his head. Reno still liked to exert power over people, see fear in their eyes... even though Shinra was 'turning over a new leaf'.

"I thought you were supposed to be the good guys," Vincent raised an eyebrow, and then made his order. Whiskey, a bottle, the best that there was. The bartender almost fell over himself to get the drink.

"Shinra is. Officially I've been..." Reno paused, taking a drink of some guy's beer. Meaning he just leaned over and took it off the counter. "Let go." This was news to Vincent, and the ex-Turk took a drink of his whiskey, not answering. He guessed that the redhead didn't fit with Shinra's new image. Reno must remind the public too much of Rufus Shinra, putting fear into people.

"Ah. Drink to it." Vincent raised the bottle.

"Yeah..." Two ex-Turks raised their respective drinks and spent the night trying to forget. What, neither would tell the other, but they didn't have to. Turks always knew other Turks' business, even when they no longer wore the uniform.

* * *

Turks were nothing but trouble, at least, that is what people said. They were usually right, especially since tonight found a somewhat drunk ex-Turk picking a fight. A fight he couldn't win, and knew it. The Mag-rod had been carelessly left at home, as had any other weapons. Hand-to-hand had always been Rude's speciality, not Reno's. And that was where Vincent found the redhead, the ex-Turk was grinning madly. He was bleeding, for sure, but that never slowed down a good Turk.

The three bodies on the ground were evidence of that. The group paused as they heard Vincent's footsteps. A pack against one, they knew they could handle. Against more than one they were nervous, shifting around. Wild dog eyes appraised the cloaked man.

"Hey, Vince," Reno's voice cracked, and the redhead held a hand to his ribs. But he was grinning. Turks all knew that death lurked around the corner, some embraced it more than others. Reno was always looking for death, ever since Tseng and Rufus had made their own embrace to the shadow-lover.

"You look like Hell." It seemed appropriate.

"I am Hell, Vince, I am Hell," The appropriate reply, grabbing the nearest thug with his right hand. While drunk Reno was still functional, almost unnaturally so. The punk died with the crack of a neck, because Reno had suddenly seen the advantage of living another night. Vincent did his own bone breaking, and soon the pack was either dead, dying or running.

"You really have no respect for peace, do you?" Vincent asked, prodding at the cracked ribs.

"The fuck," Reno muttered, wincing.

"...hn?" Vincent asked, the raised eyebrow he gave Reno looking rather suggestive. So the redhead took this as an invitation, and grabbed Vincent's hair. His fingers got tangled, far more than he would have imagined they would, and the result was a yank rather than a caress. Oh well, Reno had always liked it rougher than softer. What surprised him was that he didn't end up claiming a kiss from the ex-Turk, it was Vincent who ended up stealing it. Despite his head being yanked back the dark haired man pressed his lips to Reno's.

"Fuck," Reno said into Vincent's mouth, hands grabbing for the cloak. The pain in his ribs didn't stop him from successfully ripping all the clothing off of the top of the ex-Turk. And Vincent's hands weren't ideal either, but having a clawed hand made stripping the shirt and jacket much easier than Reno's crude rippings had. The vampire-esque man slammed Reno into a wall, ignoring the swearing and pain he knew that must have come from Reno.

"Fuck," He agreed, looking into the green-grey depthes of the other's eyes. And was met with some anger, and expectations. Reno wasn't one to give control over, and Vincent could practically see the little wheels turn in his head. But he hadn't expected the headbutt and then shove that sent them both tumbling to the ground.

"My terms," Reno hissed, reclaiming Vincent's mouth and attempting to get those damnable pants off. Vincent didn't seem inclined to agree, and was working on flipping their positions. Reno didn't want that to happen and pushed a hand down on Vincent's hair, getting both hand and hair stuck in the mud. Of course a little mud had never stopped Vincent before. The ex-Turk had a rather vicious grin on his face, and he trailed his mouth down Reno's neck to the redhead's chest, pausing to suck on a nipple. The soft moan that came from Reno's mouth turned into another swear word as Vincent bit. Hard enough to draw blood.

"Mine," Was the reply, and Vincent marked the redhead.

Instead of just the two scars on his cheek there was now an odd checkmark on his collarbone. Drawn in blood, signed in blood, paid in flesh. Of course, it wasn't as if Reno minded too much, he would come collect Vincent's debt later.

* * *

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, there it was. Since on the adventchildren community on had a character contest and Vincent and Reno were (respectively) 1st and 2nd they got slashed. Issu-kun was too tired to write a lemon, but maybe you'll get one if there's a sequel.


End file.
